Snövit
by MissxFlawless
Summary: Eric meets Pam. Eric falls in love with Pam. Pam falls in love with Eric. An 18th century love-story.
1. The Maiden

_**.night. a candlelit room. Italy. 1823.**_

Pamela narrowed her large, deep set eyes at him. Through the blood bond she shared with him, even as a human, she could sense that he was mulling over something. His emotions, which he didn't bother hiding from her at the moment, were switching rapidly as he thought about...whatever the hell he was thinking about. Sometimes she didn't care. Now? She shouldn't have cared. She wasn't nearly done experimenting with the make-up Godric had brought her from Egypt. She barely finished lining her eyes with the kajal eyeliner when she looked up at the viking through her vanity mirror and just watched him.

They were at one of the many grand villas Godric owned in Italy. As a congratulatory gift for Eric bonding himself to Pam, he made the arrangements for them to stay at the home for the week, to celebrate and not be disturbed by petty human things. Godric didn't know why a vampire would be so willing to share himself with a breather, but in his heart he knew Eric just hadn't had the heart or the patience to turn her. He would smarten up when things got difficult, but as stubborn as Eric was, he had to find out for himself. All things aside, Godric was never one to spoil a celebration.

"Eric."

With the subtlest of movements, he looked at her. "Yes, docka?"

"Docka?" she questioned.

He simply smiled at her. He was fond of how little of his first language she knew. "'Doll.'"

"Why doll?" she mustered out, her poor English getting the better of her.

"You have the skin of the richest porcelain doll I've ever laid eyes on." She took her own time to mull over his words. She liked the idea of being someone's pet. He dressed her and cared for her and took care of her. At home in Paris, this was what she was being set up for: an arranged marriage, but here, with Eric? She loved it. She felt like a hypocrite of sorts, and that dazzled her. "What question did you have, my sweet?"

She paused for a moment, shuffling through the English in her head. She cursed Eric for not knowing French better, but for a vampire, what could she expect? "What language do you think in? Vampires think, oui?" her accent thick and heavy. She thought in French herself.

"Like...my thoughts? In my head?" She nodded. His expression, which didn't change often, changed to that of surprise. "Why... I don't know, Pamela. I... I grew up in old Sweden." His eyes momentarily hardened, but Pam did not notice. "I spoke Swedish there. Godric soon thereafter taught me Norwegian and Russian. A few decades later I learned German, and then English when we moved to the states. I suppose I... I do not know, Pammy." She smiled at the nickname. "What do you think in? French?"

She nodded. "I know not of anything else." In the blink of an eye, Eric was behind her, his hands on her bare shoulders and his chin resting on her shoulder. She gasped softly. As a human, she was still not used to the speed at which a vampire could move.

"Jag kommer att lära dig svenska," he said with a grin. "Kom. Upprepa efter mig, ja?" His hand moved down the bare skin to the lace of her corset. "Spets," he said, looking into her eyes through the mirror with a smile on his face. "Come on. 'Spets' is 'lace' in Swedish. I will teach you. Undervisa, teach. You will teach me French?"

She grinned. "Oui. Undervisa. Enseigner."

"Enseigner," he repeated, returning her grin. He let his hands move a little more, to the gold necklace around her neck, a gift from Eric. "Halsband."

"Halsband," she repeated, and then giggled. "It sounds like...husband!"

"Hmm...I supposed it does." He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Mmm...puss. 'Puss' means 'kiss.' Jag älskar kyssa dig." He turned her face to him and kissed her softly. "Jag älskar att kyssa din läckra läppar." Pam moaned softly. She loved hearing him speak in his native tongue. It was oddly attractive. He kissed her again, moving his hand up to her cheek and parting her lips with his tongue. He parted them, only to say, "Läppar."

"Läppar," she breathed. Eric always took her breath away.

He licked her lips. "Tunga."

"Tunga."

He moved his hand down to her breast. "Bröst."

"Bröst," she moaned. She grabbed his hand and massaged her breast with it. "Kyssa mig!"

It was such a turn on, hearing her speak to him, demanding those things from him, in his own language. He obliged, not one to keep a lady waiting. He moved his hands to the ribbon on her back that kept her so tight in her corset. He cursed the fashions of the 1800s. How was a man supposed to remove clothing in a proper amount of time when the woman was practically sewed into her garments? He missed the days of loincloths, he truly did. With a swift pull, he tore the long, taut ribbon in half, the corset splitting and falling into two pieces on the floor. She gasped, but soon forgot about it as Eric pulled her into his arms, and them into a standing position. Her skirt fell behind her as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

She moved in to kiss him, her hands on either side of his face, but he bared his fangs at her instead. "Pamela, du...är...min." He hissed at her and roughly pierced the skin. Her delicious blood pooled in his mouth and she moaned loudly as he drank from her.

"Oh, Eric! Buvez! Buvez-moi! S'il vous plaît!" She grinded her pelvis against his stomach, moaning at the friction.

He pulled his mouth away from the wounds and whispered into her ear: "Blod. Your blood, all of your blood, is mine, Pamela. You are mine."

"Blod," she breathed.

He raised his own wrist to his mouth and pierced the skin. "Drick från mig, prinsessa. Drink. Be mine forever."

She latched onto the dripping holes he made, bonding them for the third time, and forever.

"För evigt."

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><p><strong>AN: The beginning of my take on how Eric turned Pam. IDGAF what the TV show or the book says. Fuck the authority. I believe that Eric and Pam's relationship is deeper than we ever see. He loves her more than maker and child love each other. This is only chapter one, and should not take more than five chapters to finish. This will not interfere with "Lovesong." Enjoy. By the way, I don't fuckin' speak Swedish. Or French for that matter! Thank God for the internet. I'm sorry if I made any mistakes. I truly am.**


	2. The Vampire

_**.1820. Paris. ballroom in royal castle.**_

As an 18 year old princess in a country where royalty no longer matters to the political well-being in said country, it is quite tiresome when your family insists to keep the royal blood-line going. Napoleon had run rampant through France, and there was not much left of the royal family. Her father's father's cousin, Louis XVII, held a strong conviction in this. As the youngest daughter to still be wed of a distant, remotely nonexistent bloodline of royals, it was her turn to marry a duke or a lord. Today was the day she picked. She rolled her eyes and let her chin rest on her hand as she sat at her throne. This was the third ball her father had thrown to marry her off and she refused to be a piece of meat for his father to auction off. She was better than that. She thought that she meant more to him than that.

"Penelope Amarante Mélanie Swynford De Beaufort! Allons donc! Asseyez-vous cet instant! I will not 'ave my daughter sitting there like some log! Look alive, child. Soyez vivants, for God's sake," her mother chastised her as she yanked the girls arm from right underneath her chin. Penelope fell over momentarily before picking herself right back up and into the same position she started in.

She probably should have listened. The tightly woven bodice was beginning to pinch at her sides, and she was starting to lose the ability to breath, but she refused, again, to be treated like this. She was a human, an actual person with thoughts and feelings! She loved art and science and books and reading and writing! She didn't care for political nonsense. Why were they still caring about the royals when the French monarchy had died decades ago? It angered her that her family insisted. She felt the task was useless. She'd rather be in a library, reading.

"Pammy! Pam!" Her three little cousins ran up to her as fast as they could. They loved her dearly, and she loved them. Amelia, Domitille, and Fleur were aged seven, six and five, respectively. They affectionately called her "Pam" once the eldest, Amelia, learned to read and figured out that Penelope's names spelled out PAM.

"Yes, mes petits bébés?"

"_Will you come to dance with us_?" Amelia said in her terrible French. She was from London, and was visiting with the other girls only for the party.

"_Oh, yes! Please, Pammy! Please come to dance with us_!" chimed Domitlle.

Fleur just stared up at Penelope in awe, her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. She was the most beautiful person she had ever seen in her tiny life. She wanted to be just like her when she grew up. She wanted the big, beautiful gowns and the long hair! She was like Rapunzel! Her blonde hair was curly and it reached all the way down to her hips! She must have been growing her hair for a million years to get it that long.

"Well," Penelope said, "I might as well. I will not dance with another tonight! Come, girls! Laissez-nous danser!" She gladly stood up with a smile and took Fleur's hand in hers. She loved these little girls. They were really the only reason she managed to stay sane in this infuriating family.

She spun the girls around and danced and laughed with them for quite some time. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see her parents' anger rising, but she did not care. She did not want a husband. With a laugh, she spun around swiftly, only to bump into someone. He caught her before she fell over. He held onto her arm while she settled herself, mumbling to herself in French about how stupid she was for having not paid attention. When she turned to face him, she was mesmerized. She might have even forgotten her own name. He was so tall, SO tall, with ice blue eyes. They pierced her all the way down to her soul. He smiled at her, perfect white teeth shining in her eyes. They were as white as the ivory on her tiara. His skin was as white as the stars, his hair was as yellow as the hair on the end of corn. He had the clearest complection, the brightest skin, the liveliest eyes. He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

With that cheeky smile, he moved his hand to hers and raised it to his lips, brushing them against the top of her hand. "Bonjour, princesse. Je suis venu pour vous sauver."

She cocked and eyebrow and removed her hand from his rather roughly. By the sound of his accent, she could tell he didn't speak French. "I do not need saving. Who are you?" Her English wasn't much better, but she could hardly understand his French.

All the tall, blonde man did was laugh at her. "My, my. Aren't we feisty? My name is...Emeric. That is all you need to know."

She narrowed her deep set eyes at him. "Liar. Tell me your real name, or I will tell all of the guards that you mean harm to me." He set off something fiery inside of her.

Again, he grabbed her arm, but pulled her close to him. He leaned into her right ear and whispered, "I will never harm you. You are too beautiful. I wish to save you, and that is my only wish."

"Monsieur, you speak to me as if I am a damsel in distress, une jeune fille solitaire! I am not a lonely girl who needs to be rescued, not by the likes of you! I do not even know of you! How dare you come to the castle of royalty and assault the princess as you 'ave!"

"It comes as quite a shock to me that a simple woman speaks this way to a man. Especially a man of royalty. You do not know who you cross, Miss Beaufort."

She raised her hand to slap him, but he was quicker than her and he fiercely grabbed her wrist. She cried out in pain. "Stop! Who on earth do you think you are?"

With a smile that was all too telling, he loosened his grip on her wrist and again, kissed the back of her hand. "Let me show you what you are missing, Penelope. Do you want to see the world? Do you want to live freely? You don't really want to marry any of these stuffy, useless men, do you? They cannot give you a third of what I can. Riches, beauty, life. I can provide that for you." He looked her deeply in her eyes and she gasped softly. "Please, let me show you what I can provide for you."

"I-I...How do I know I can trust you? Who even are you?"

He grinned at her. "Just say 'yes.'" Penelope carefully nodded her head. Anyone who wasn't distinctly paying attention would have missed it. The man pulled her into his arms and caressed the side of her face. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in one hundred years."

She scoffed. "You're hardly older than I."

"You'd be surprised." He smirked. "Are those your parents?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Permission, dear. I'm a man of tradition." He led her through the crowd of people to the two elaborate thrones at the head of the room. "Excusez-moi, monsieur, but is this your daughter?"

The king nodded. "You are Emeric of the North, are you not?" The blonde man grinned. "Very well. Penelope, meet your new husband. Monsieur Emeric is a wealthy duke from Norway. You should do very well to make his acquaintance."

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><p>Emeric sat her down in a chair, his eyes scanning the room for the window. He moved to it and set eyes on the moon. With a smile, he turned back to her. She was openly weeping in front of him. She had never been known to show weakness, especially not in the company of men, but she was in a strange place with a strange man. She knew not of whether he wanted her alive or dead. It was the dead of night and she was in a strange home with a strange man with strange desires. Of course she was scared.<p>

"Penelope..." he whispered. "Why the tears? I told you... I will never harm you." He crossed the room to kneel at her feet. He bowed his head. "I will truly cherish you from this day forward, if you chose to have me by your side."

She lifted her own head. "What?"

"I didn't lie when I told you I was here to save you. I've been watching you. You are the most lithe, beautiful creature I have ever had the honor of meeting in my years on this earth. A white lie is no cost to what I will be gaining by gaining you as my mate. Your beauty contradicts everything I've heard in stories, ancient and new. You are like a painting, beauty only fabricated by the imagination. It's as if you are God's painting. I need check my eyes twice to make sure you are even standing in front of me." He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Please, let me save you. Let me love you as you are."

"Tell me your name."

He obliged. "Eric."

"Where you from?"

"What is now Sweden."

"Are you really a prince?"

"Yes, in my country. Here? Not so much, but father doesn't need to know that." She gave him slight regard. She still didn't trust him. He'd been watching her? Where? For how long? How long had he been talking to her parents? How did he even know she existed? She was some randomly descended, non-important princess. Why did he care about her? "I understand. You're confused. Let me prove to you that I can change your whole world, for the better." Eric truly believed in himself that this was true.

"I trust you. You are like some kind of God in and of yourself. I have never seen another with eyes a blue that matches yours. What are you?"

He grinned, flashing his fangs. Interestingly enough, she did not retreat away from him. Her eyes widened and she marveled at him. She leaned forward and carefully traced his right fang with her index finger. He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent. He smelled her blood from miles away. Something, someone, her, drew him to Marseille, France.

"Êtes-vous un monstre?" she whispered.

"Un vampire."


	3. The Library

_**.1820. castle. bedroom. midnight.**_

Penelope was sprawled out on Eric's bed like a queen. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, and what was left of her dress barely caressed her sweet, soft body. The gentle curls that were left in her hair cascaded down her head, and she was twirling one of the thick strands around her delicate finger. Her blue eyes were narrowed into thin, judgmental slits as she watched the vampire that kidnapped her disrobe in front of her. She was not pleased. She did not favor the idea of being someone's pet. She was not here for the use of a man. She was here to live her own life; to study science and literature. She found herself quite fond of Shakespeare, but not of this monster. He'd stolen her from her home, from her family, from the little children she loved so dearly. She found his interest in her petty and dishonest. He was about as trustworthy and interesting as he was ugly: not at all.

"Why, Penelope... If I were human your glares might be able to turn me to stone. Why the daggers?"

"I hate you."

He snickered. "Of course you do. I've only covered you in the most luxurious silks and linens, from Egypt and Asia. I've covered you in the most delectable diamonds. I-"

"Leave it to a man to believe that a woman may be swayed by petty, material objects. These pearls? They mean nothing to me!" She ripped the chain from her neck and threw them at the ground in a heated fury, shattering the priceless jewels on the floor.

The tall Viking merely raised an eyebrow at her childish outburst. "Seriously? Those cost me quite a bit of money, Penelope. I bought them just for you."

"I don't want your ridiculous wealth," she spat, her accent becoming worse as the anger in her blood rose. She had never known that such wrath lay dormant beneath the surface, but the more Eric pushed at her, the more the liquid heat of fury rose in her. He took a step toward her. "Watch your fucking feet! Do not come near me!"

In the blink of an eye, Eric was on top of her, his had clutching her throat. He was squeezing rather snugly at either side of her jaw bone, steering clear of her windpipe, causing small whimpers of pain to slip from her plump lips. "Watch _your_ fucking mouth. I could tear you to shreds and feel no remorse." That was a lie. He'd never hurt her, and they both knew that. "I've refrained from draining you for this long. My patience is wearing thin. I will ruin you. Hold your tongue, you disrespectful little child!" He tightened his grip ever so slightly, but it was just enough to make her burst into tears. He didn't initially want to instill fear into her. Fear mongering did not equal respect. He also didn't want to glamour her. Shit.

He let her go, but remained on top of her, his long, lithe legs straddling her. She desperately clung to her throat, tears sliding down her face, digging trails in the ivory color of her make-up. "I'm sorry."

"Get. Off. Of. Me."

"No."

"I will scream."

"Do it. It's the dead of night. No one will hear you. When are you going to relax and understand that I do not want to hurt you?"

She sat up on her elbows, looking at him incredulously. "Are you honest? You have kidnapped me from my home and from all of the people I love!"

"Do you really want to go back there?" His posture deflated mildly. "You really want to go back to being trapped? Penelope...please. Let me show you the world. Let me introduce you to what you are missing. You have this undeniable lust for life and this insatiable need to be excited. Don't lie to me: I excite you. I enthrall you."

"You're a monster. There is not another thing you could be capable of doing. What do you want with me? Don't vampires kill humans? Don't you want my blood?"

"Not without your permission. Pammy..." He raised a cautious brow before she nodded for him to continue. He was sure she'd object to the nickname. "You don't understand. I have been enamored by you since I first laid eyes on you. I know how captive you have felt in your home. They keep you locked up in a stone room with no freedom. Can I show you something?"

She searched his eyes for even just an ounce of humanity. She sighed, unable to find it, but nodded.

With the most human smile she'd seen on his face thus far, he rose, holding his hand out for her to grab. "Come, I promise it will be worth your while. I've been alive for nearly a thousand years. You'll want to see this." In a moment of fear, she latched onto his hand tightly. He gave her another warm smile. "Don't be frightened."

Eric led her down a few dimly lit corridors until they came to a huge stone door. The lock on the door was an ornate copper lock. Penelope had never seen such beauty on a door handle, not even in her own castle. He slid in a key, the lock opened, and he pushed the door. He moved with ease through the room, leaving her at the head of the room. He grabbed an unlit torch with a speed faster than she could register, and in the blink of an eye, the entire room was illuminated. From the height of the ceiling to the bottom of the floor, every wall, every nook and cranny was filled with a book. The room was at least three three times as tall as her vampire was. Her jaw dropped with an unladylike gasp, and it was all she could do to stop from collapsing on the floor from the sheer sight of such beauty. She had never seen this many books before.

She let her curiosity lead her into the room. In the center was a huge, cushiony arm-chair. On either side were two tables lined with candles for perfect lighting. She moved deeper into the room and let her fingers gently caress the bindings of hundred-year-old books. She'd never heard of most of them, but was overjoyed at the ones she had heard of. There was even a section of books in French. Most of them were in languages she'd never seen before.

"Well?"

She finally turned to face him with the widest grin he had ever seen on her face. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. "C'est la plus belle chose que j'ai jamais vu! Je n'ai jamais vu autant de livres dans ma vie! It is beautiful! Where did you find all of these books?"

"I told you," he replied, his face stoic, "I am over 800 years old. One manages to garner quite the collection in that period of time." He closed the gap between their bodies and chose then to palm her delicious, rosy cheeks in his hands. "Please, Penelope...let me show you how wonderful your life could be. Let me shower you with beauty and life. Let me take you across the world and show you the beauties of it you never would have seen otherwise. Please."

Erik of the North was NOT a man to beg. He didn't throw himself at anyone's feet like some sort of wanton whore. He was a vampire; a monster. He killed thousands of people. He'd raped women, drained them, and raped them again. He tortured entire families. He drained priests and nuns and teachers and mothers and sisters and brothers and fathers. He murdered kings and queens, princesses and duchesses. He held no mercy for humans...so who was this...girl that she had enamored him in such a way that he was begging her to let him love her? He hardly knew what the word meant.

"Pam...Penelope... Please." He pressed a chaste kiss to her swollen lips.

She would have collapsed at his feet had he not been holding her.


	4. The Virgin

**A/N: At the risk of pimping myself out, I'm on twitter. If you're interested in knowing when I'm going to post new chapters and things like that, go ahead and follow me: MissxFlawless.**

**This aint safe for work, kids.**

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><p><em><strong>.1820. castle. bedroom. approximately 2:23am.<strong>_

The cascade of intense emotions flooding through her in that moment were almost too much for her to bear. Her eyes were close to blacking out. So much had happened to her in the past few days, and her mind was racing at a million miles an hour. Vampires were real, she didn't live in a prison anymore, she didn't have to deal with her parents anymore, she'd never see the babies again. What would she do with her life? There were so many opportunities arising in her head as she gazed into the deep, cerulean eyes of the monster in front of her. She didn't know what came over her when she decided to kiss him back, but in that moment it felt like the right thing to do, and boy, gee whiz, golly wolly was that the best decision she ever made in her short life.

He crashed his lips onto hers, palming the right side of her face in his cold fingers. He ran his other hand through her curls and gripped a small chunk of them so he could pull her even closer if it were possible. Soon, his hands found their way to her lower back, and she wrapped her delicate arms around his neck. She was surprised that she was even tall enough to reach him from where she was!

In that moment, that one millisecond which seemed so futile to him, she saw the most glorious fireworks in her head: dragons dancing in fire and fish swimming in flames of red and orange behind her eyes, stars bursting through the seams of the universe as they twirled intricate rhymes in the stardust above her head. She'd never seen anything so absolutely stunning, so radiant and so brilliant in her imagination that she cried. There was a wetness behind her eyelids as their lips continued to crash together. Nothing was close enough. Nothing was deep enough. Nothing was wet enough. His lips blazed their way across her cheek to her earlobe, where he sucked and _sucked_, causing moans of pleasure to escape the swollen lips he'd just had in his capture. She'd never been touched by a man before, especially like this. He ripped at the fabric that contained her breasts, shredding the weak threads. They never stood a chance against his lust. The twine fell to pieces, splaying her breasts out before him. They were just so, perfect and erect, her nipples ready to take their place in his mouth, where they were meant to be.

He released her earlobe and put her left nipple into his mouth, gently, gently sucking at the skin, his lips curling into a smirk when he felt it harden in his mouth. He mercifully flicked his tongue against the tip before capturing it another kiss.

She was literally seeing stars as she opened her eyes. The tiny whiteness be-speckled her vision while her pupils desperately searched for the light to quench their thirst. Soon enough, they found themselves adjusted and she watched as the Viking got down on his knees in front of her, holding on her arms and pressing chaste kisses against her stomach. The corset, too, was no match for his strength, and in one beautiful rip it fell to the ground, along with her gown. She was naked before him, and not any part of her wanted to recoil. Good, she thought. Let him take in what is his, and what will always be. Her body had been untouched before these subtle moments of lust. She was a virgin, and wanted nothing more than to give herself to him.

She heard a distinct clicking sound come from beneath her, and when her eyes adapted, she saw two white, shining fangs staring up at her. For a moment she wondered if he would bite her, but the thought left her when he ruthlessly dragged them across her skin. He inhaled, taking in the scent of her wetness for him, and he growled low and deep in his throat. She was seeing more and more of an animal, and less of a human, and the wetness between her legs only grew for him. He pressed his fangs against the skin above her folds, and drew them across the patch of skin. He drew no blood, but it was the most intimate thing she'd ever experienced as moan after moan released itself from her mouth. She ran her hand through his long hair, almost begging him to do more. She was a lady, and would never use words to express it, but she didn't have to. He looked up at her, his eyes shining as he plunged his tongue into her hot, thick, wet center.

Her knees buckled underneath her when he hit her clit, and she cried out, clutching his shoulders. She felt more vulnerable than ever letting a man get so much pleasure out of her.

He smirked, and dove right back in, attacking her clit and clutching her rear in his hands tightly. He moved his left hand to her entrance and gently, gently probed at it. She squirmed above him, the pressure building in the pit of her stomach a rather nice distraction from him breaking her in. He dipped a finger inside of her just as her climax hit, breaking the thin membrane there. When he pulled his fingers back, there was blood on them, and she gasped.

All Eric did was place his finger into his mouth and suck. He moaned loudly. Her blood was the purest he'd ever tasted and he wanted more of it. He wanted so much more of her.

Her chest was heaving, and she could barely stand anymore. He stood, his erection begging her to break it free from the strict confines of the trousers he was wearing. It was almost demanding she plunge it deep into her mouth. He pulled her close to him, pressing himself into her stomach and placing a sweet kiss on her lips. Without a word, he picked her up and swiftly carried her into his bedroom. She was a princess and she would be treated as such. He'd have no less when it came to her.

When her eyes adjusted yet again to the dim, fire-lit room she gasped. The entirety of the house was so ornate and elaborate. She hardly saw things like this back at her own castle. It was beautiful.

He carefully set her down upon the luscious bed, and in the blink of an eye he was naked and on top of her, his erection softly probing at her entrance. He rested on top of her for a moment, gazing deeply into her eyes and kissing her.

"You're perfect."

"I'm human," she replied. "That's impossible."

"You defy the impossible, Penelope." He kissed her again, and gently pushed into her.

Her entire body tensed with pleasure. Her back arched, her eyes snapped shut, she cried out his name, she gripped the sheets and she dug her fingernails into his back, all seemingly at the same time. The amount of pleasure she gained from not only his length and girth but just from his presence inside of her was enough to bring her to another climax. He moaned loudly and buried himself deep inside of her. Their bodies were completely pressing together while his length explored her tight wetness. His fangs were begging to be inside of her, especially when he stopped to kiss her. His kisses became more urgent, as if he were searching for something inside of them. She pulled away and looked into his eyes ones more, willing him to continue. There was nothing she wanted more in that moment than for him to keep going. She'd never felt so good in her entire life.

He pulled himself out of her slowly, bracing himself on his hands above her, and shoved himself back in. Their moans filled the entire home. No one would dare disturb their beautiful noises.

Once he was sure she was used to him, he created a steady, gentle rhythm. He would not have her come without giving her the time of her life. He had to will himself to keep going and not give up right then and there. He hadn't done much believing in a God, but if there was a Heaven, it most certainly was between her thighs. He'd never felt more at home than right there.

Their lips were crashing into one another, his fangs drawing blood from the both of them. His hips were fiercely smashing into hers, and he could feel her walls tightening around him.

When he was sure her orgasm was on the horizon, he plunged his fangs deeply into her breast, bringing them both to climax. She screamed, grabbing onto and kissing every part of him that she could reach. He exploded inside of her as her blood spilled over the punctures and into his mouth. She thought for sure she would faint, if not from blood loss than the amount of pleasure he brought to her in that moment. She could feel the waves of orgasm roll through her and they just wouldn't stop. The more he sucked at her skin, the deeper and larger the waves became until she was shaking underneath him. His tongue darted out of his mouth and he licked the wounds until the closed up, not letting a single drop of her blood go to waste. She was still tightly clenched onto him, and he was giving no objections to it, or any hint that he planned on going anywhere.

"I've found Heaven between your thighs, min älskare. There is no place I would rather spend my nights. I'd meet the sun a thousand times over to experience your beauty just one last time." He laid his head down on her chest and listened to her heart beat. She was breathing deeply and heavily.

"You've caused so much destruction inside of me," she whispered, bringing a hand up to him and carefully running it through his soft hair. "So many times I thought I would die from pleasure. Who are you?"

"The love of your life. Your prince charming, Snövit."

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><p><strong>AN: So...that happened. Didn't really expect that when I sat down today. The more I write Eric/Pam, the more I want Sookie to just fuck off next season. There needs to be an epic sex scene between Eric and Pam, I don't give a shit if she's gay. In case you forgot, I'm MissxFlawless on twitter. Follow me for story updates.  
><strong>


	5. The Blood

_**.1820. castle. bedroom. approximately 5:40am.**_

The gentle kisses he was pressing to her lips were sending the most tender sparks throughout her entire body. She'd never found herself physically attracted to a man until that moment. He was adoring her: he was worshiping her breasts, her stomach, her hair, her lips, her eyes, all of HER. She felt so wonderful beneath him. She thought she'd be freezing underneath his cool skin, but she was the opposite.

With the pad of her middle finger, she lightly danced over the two small holes on her breast. Catching sight of this, Eric brought his lips to the wound. "Would you like me to make it go away?"

She furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"

"Watch." He pricked his finger and smoothed his blood over the marks, and they suddenly vanished. Honestly, she met a vampire today. If she were going to call "witchcraft!" she would have done so hours ago. Instead, she marveled.

"How on earth..."

"Vampire blood." He held his finger so she could see him heal. "Our blood holds magical powers. We are immortal. We are impervious to things that would kill you in minutes. Our blood is intoxicating to humans, and it also heals them of ailments quite quickly. I've never seen it first hand. I've never given my blood to a human. I'm not sure of my exact age, but for over 900 years, no human has ever tasted me as I have tasted them." He caught her lips in a kiss. "I'd like you to be the first...if you wish."

She started blankly at him. "I do not know what that would mean. I would just drink your blood?"

Eric laid his chin in the valley between her breasts. "I'd like to form a blood bond with you. It's the most intimate thing a vampire can share with a human, or anyone for that matter. You would be connected to me through our blood. I would be able to sense your emotions, know where you are and what you're doing, and you would know the same for me. If we bond three times, we're bonded forever."

"So, it is turning love into something... I don't know the words."

"We'd marry our bodies into one, forever be together in life and love."

Together forever? How long was forever to a human? It certainly held different meaning for a vampire. It literally meant forever. For her, it was just until she died. That could be today, tomorrow or even five years from now. You only live once, right? She was a mortal, death could come easy to her. Why not give in to her wildest fantasies? What was the worst that could happen to her?

Death.


End file.
